OBSESSION
by RandomKreativitee
Summary: Hera has sworn fidelity to her husband, Zeus. But, what good is that to the mortal whose very nature obsesses everyone in its path?
1. Prologue

_No one knew from where it had came - the baby with the wide, gray eyes, cheeky smile, and sparse black hair. An ordinary baby caught in an odd, perhaps unfortunate, series of events that had led some "no-good-for-nothing" mother to abandon her child. And "such an adorable child" as the one they all crowded around, the mothers were quick to announce._

_The one question that everyone thought, but were, in fear of appearing selfish, afraid to speak was: Who will care for this child?_

_ The night was cool, and a gust of breeze passing by made one of the concerned woman in attendance step forward. Gently, bending at the waist, she tugged the blanket higher on over the baby's plump body. As if to thank her, the baby honored her with a wide, toothless smile. Immediately, she clutched her heart, and fell to her knees. And in that moment, her heart overflowed with love that she had never thought possible, she decided that she would care for it. If only to earn that same smile, once more._

_And it had been decided, without much protest, that Noamora would care for the babe._

And so she had.

With all the experience that her 16 years had afforded her, she pampered the baby. She breast fed him; clothed him; changed him; taught him to read, write, walk, speak (she made sure to let the whole village know when he said 'Mama'), how to cook, sew, and iron; and how to fight, ride a horse, and shoot a bow.

And she took pride in the fact that she had accomplished this all alone.

They lived, together, alone but not secluded, in a cottage that Noamora had built on the outskirts of the village; just her and 'Anon'. That's what she had christened him. It meant 'soon' - for what, she did not truly know, but she always believed that he was destined for great things, soon. And that's what she had named him.

The villagers, perhaps feeling guilty for not immediately offering to rear the babes themselves, provided her with enough comfort, so that she could focus solely on her main luxury: Anon. Anything she needed, they would provide. She could walk into any store, or up to any stand or stall at the market, and take as much goods as she could carry - free of charge. When it rained, snowed, sleeted, or hailed, brave men would trek up to her cottage armed with food, firewood, and bundles of home-stitched clothing. As independent as Noamora was, she saw the valuable time that she was gaining from this service to devote to her precious child.

And this is how they lived for many seasons.


	2. Chapter 1

Anon, nourished by the warm sun of Noamora's smile, and the pure waters of her wisdom, grew as a blade of grass grows when fed by water and sunlight.

He was a very contemplative youth, constantly pondering the mysteries of the world, and doubting the things he knew were most likely true.. And he was _forever_ asking questions. Whatever she told him to do, he would do without a word; but, as she had come to expect, afterwards, the questions would invariably come.

But, she did not mind. Not one bit.

Life was good.

Until the dreams began.

When Anon was four summers, he began having dreams about a woman. His vocabulary wasn't enough to adequately describe his dreams thoroughly. But from what little Noamora could understand, the woman claimed to be his real mother.

When Noamora heard those words, she froze, her blood turned cold.

_No...It can't be... _

It hadn't scared Anon, but it had confused the young child greatly.

And of course, he had many questions.

She shushed him and put him in her bed, where he promptly fell asleep. She, however, tossed and turned the whole night to Anons major dislike. "Mama. Stop."

That cheered her up a bit. Putting in the incident aside, she too fell asleep.

But, the dreams did not _stop._ It went from once a week, to three times, to every night.

And every night, the routine was repeated.

Anon, in his innocence, did not think anything of it. It was a game to him. A game that let him sleep in his mama's bed every night. He had thought once or twice of pretending the dream had came to him when it hadn't, but he had seen how much it distressed his mother. So, he just settled for whenever it came.

Noamora, on the other hand, was in a complete disarray. She had raised Anon as her own son(no... He_ is_ my son), and she could not bear the thought of someone, _anyone_, taking Anon away from her.

_Even a mother who could abandon her child in the middle of a village, she thought bitterly. _

And, how could the mother make herself appear in her son's dreams unless she was a magician, or...

Noamora gasped, her hand quickly coming up to cover her mouth._ Or, unless Anon is dreaming of her because he doesn't see me as his real mother? _

Noamora harshly blinked back stinging tears that threatened to cascade down her cheeks. She had planned to tell Anon that she wasn't his real mother. But not now...not now. When he was older, much older.

Anon slept peacefully beside her.

The dreams had stopped not too long after that, and life gradually returned to normal.

Anon, caught up in the happy net of his youth, was having too much fun to remember such horrible moments. And Noamora, letting herself get trapped up in his enthusiasm, succeeded in pushing the incident to the back of her mind.

But she never truly forgot...


	3. Chapter 2

His true power began to manifest when he was five.

At five, she had already enrolled him in school. And though he was an entire four seasons younger than the rest of the kids, he was the top of the class.

But...the way the kids responded to him was _strange, _to say the least.

The first day of school ended, Noamora had glanced out the way, her eyes searching for the familiar figure of Anon to come racing up the path to their cottage. But, when, finally, she did spot him, he was not alone.

He was calmly walking up the path, surrounding by a small group of boys and girls all eager for his attention. Two girls, who looked to be about 8 summers, had their arm looped in his, while Anon kept turning his head back to respond to something that the boys trailing him had said.

All in all, he looked distressed.

Noamora stepped outside, and Anon immediately called out, with obvious glee, "Mother!"

And with tremendous force, he broke the chain of the two girls arms and ran up and gave his mother a huge and kiss. Bending into his hug, Noamora whispered: "Anon, it seems that you've made many friends."

"Friends or followers? They keep following me. I have no peace." He whispered back.

She smiled and stood straight, donning a strong voice, she said, "Anon, must start on his homework! You all may play with him then, after he is done. Understood?"

With moans and sighs, they turned. The two older girls stepped forward and held out something to Anon. His books.

He smiled and stepped forward to receive them. "Thank you."

Instantly, both girls descended on him, kissing each cheek, blushing, and running off, giggling madly.

Anon sat stunned on the floor, where he had fallen to escape his two attackers. _Pretty attackers, _he had to admit, with a smirk.

Noamora coughed, and he jumped forgetting she was there. "Mother, did you see...?" he asked, turning to her.

She had an amused twinkle in her eye that Anon didn't just quite yet know how he felt about. Shrugging, he picked up his books and followed his mother inside.

But that was not the last of the incidents.

The crowds grew even larger. The boys and girls were even older. Once, the teacher had even been in the crowd. Her excuse was, "I just wanted to see what the commotion was about." But Noamora's keen eyes had not failed to notice the lingering gazes that the teacher placed on Anon as she went on and on about how Anon was just a _so _wonderful student.

She had kept Anon out of school the next day.

But, apparently, the crowds did not like that. The same day they came to her cottage, led by the teacher, and looking altogether like a mob, minus the torches and pitchforks. But there were fires and daggers in their eyes, as they chorused, "Where is Anon?"

Noamora had stepped out, calmly twirling her axe. "Yes?" she asked, sweetly.

The kids seeing this young woman, barely older than their oldest kid, twirling a huge axe like it was a baton, they gulped and quieted down quick. The teacher stepped forward, rather nervously.

"Hello."

Noamora did not respond.

"Uhm...well, we noticed that Anon did not show up in school today."

"Yes, I know. I kept him from school. I'm thinking of transferring him to another school."

The teachers eyes flashed with rage, and her nostrils quivered, but she caught herself and reigned it in. "Why?" she asked, voice cracking.

Noamora did not respond.

Then, the teacher did something that surprised Noamora. "Anon?" she called out. "Anon?" She sounded so lost, so desperate. Noamora stared at her in shock. The kids too, had a lost, desperate look in their eyes as they searched the house with their eyes, waiting for Anon to appear._ What is going on here?_

"Stay inside, Anon!" Noamora called out.

"Anon?" the teacher called out again, more urgent, more frantic. "Anon, it's your teacher. Come talk to me."

Seconds passed and Anon did not show. Noamora had stopped twirling the axe. She was too stunned by this spectacle to move.

"Don't you want to talk to me?" she cried out, tears threatening to spill down her face.

Noamora's mouth was open in shock. The kids looked like they were about to cry as well. _All for Anon?_ she asked herself.

Slowly, she backed up into the house. Anon was standing there, wide-eyed. "Mother, they are truly mad," he whispered.

Noamora calmly nodded, though she felt a clenching in her insides. She was scared. He had not seen their faces, and their intensity. They were like those of one possessed...Or obsessed.

They had to move now. And quickly.

She could already hear the teacher creaking up the steps on their outside porch, still calling out, "Anon? Anon, Sweetie, it's me, your teacher, open the door."

Noamora glanced to see Anon's expression. He just stood there, expressionless, no doubt thinking. Finally, he turned to her. "I know we are leaving, Mother. But...If we are to fight our way out, I need to know how many there are."

The way he said it, filled with such confidence and self-assuredness, immediately evaporated any fear that was inside her. She could fight very well, and hadn't she taught Anon everything she had known?

"I did not count." Noamora replied. "But, there are many. And we will not fight, if we can avoid it. We will go through the back."

He nodded, dissapeared, and returned with a small sack. "Money," he said, to Noamora's questioning eyes. "We will need to buy things when we are in hiding, right Mother?"

She nodded.

"And I checked the back," he continued. "There are not many, but a few back there. And we will have to fight, it seems."

He did not sound eager, or scared. He stated it simply like it was just something that would have to be done.

As they headed for the back, Anon turned one last final time to Noamora. "I am Sorry for

His sentence was broken with a hug. "Let us save words for a later time, Anon."

She had purposely said later time to give hope to Anon, whose words sounded like they would die here, and to herself. He understood. Then, checking to make sure he still had the money, he unlocked the door, and they stepped outside to face whatever was in their way.

**Authors Note: I am thinking of making this the last chapter. But, I've apparently made the grave mistake of writing on a dead topic. So many people read this as I see in the traffic graph, yet no one reviews. And to my one follower, this chapter was written solely for you my friend, as you seem to be the only one to take interest. I have no wish to pollute this site with a story no one cares for, or for my work to be praised after I'm a corpse riddled with maggots like an artist whose work is hailed as a masterpiece, many years after he has passed. **

**So, my readers, leave a review if you enjoy. All I wish to do, is all that you want to be done.**


	4. Chapter 3

At the back, there were four kids only. They stood firm with determined faces, making silent promises with themselves that they would not fail in capturing Anon.

_And he will forever be ours._

Unconsciously, without knowing, they all huddled a bit closer.

A brave one, a tubby boy of 12 perhaps, stepped forward. For what reason, no one knew. But, alas, he was the first to be taken out.

Quick as a blur, Noamora smacked the boys head into the handle of her axe. Before he had even hit the ground, she was upon the others, too stunned to move. On her heels was Anon.

They all turned to Anon, and in that moment of distraction, she made quick work of them. Without losing a step, she and Anon stepped into the forests that surrounding the back of their house.

By the time the others had reached the back, they were long gone.

Everywhere they went, the scenes were repeated. The crowds, the escapes...Even when she did not enroll him in school, nosy neighbors would inquire about the 'handsome boy' they had seen, once or twice. And they would have that look in their eye. And again, Noamora and Anon were forced to relocate.

Time and time again. The situation was not eased by the fact, that the more Anon grew, the more handsome he became. At 14, he was already 6 feet and 4 inches, and looked like the son of god...And since Noamora had no clue where he had truly came from, he very well could be.

And one night, as they sat in the room they had rented at some inn far out in the woods, there was a knock on the door. Noamora could not help the tightening that tensed her muscles so painfully, the stress that racked her mind at the thought they would have to move again.

She stole a glance at Anon. He had not stopped whittling the wooden spear in his hand, and gave no indication that he had even heard the knock. She almost began to believe that she had imagined it, when there it was again.

It was louder this time, and there was no doubt Anon had heard it, but he still didn't make any move to the door.

Puzzled by his strange behavior, Noamora stood and went to the door, resting her hand on it. After a moment, to regain her strength, she unlocked the door.

It had been raining, and the beautiful woman that stood outside was completely soaked. And beautiful she was. Her golden hair streamed past her shoulders, slicked straight from the rain; her eyes were as blue as the ocean, and just as deep; her beautiful mouth was curved in a gentle smile; and the simple dress she wore, now wet with rain, clung to this woman's every curve. And she had many...

All in all, she made Noamora feel very inferior as a woman at the moment.

"May I come in?" the woman spoke, her voice as beautiful as her looks.

Noamora stared at her suspiciously. "For what business?" she asked, haughtily, very prepared to slam the door on this gorgeous woman.

"I want to see my son." The woman said gently.

Noamora almost snorted._ Be reasonable,_ she told herself.

"And what makes you think he is here?" she pressed the woman, slowly closing the door.

"Ask your son. He will confirm it."

Noamora was prepared to slam the door then and there, but there was something about this woman. She had an aura round her. And she did not have that look in her eyes that Noamora had only come to know too well.

Before she could stop herself, she was saying, "Anon! Come here a minute."

The woman chuckled. Noamora peered at her, and before she could ask the woman what was so funny, Anon stepped behind her.

And then he gasped.

The spear he made, and had brought in anticipation of trouble, clattered to the floor.

"What is wrong Anon? Speak!" Noamora urged, clutching his shirt.

The woman and Anon were locked in deep eye contact. And, finally without breaking eye contact, he addressed Noamora:

"Mother, this is the woman I had seen in my dreams..."


	5. Chapter 4

"_Mother, this is the woman I had seen in my dreams..."_

Anon had hurried to usher the woman in, and was eager to make her more comfortable. Noamora had watched the woman's face very carefully. But the woman had only looked upon Anon with those unreadable deep eyes of hers.

After Anon had seen to it that she had a cup of streaming hot cocoa, and a warm blanket, he pulled a chair across from her, where he now sat, gazing at her.

Noamora sat close by, a tinge of _something _creeping up on her as she watched her son act like a servant for this woman.

The woman placed her cup down. Anon frowned and pointed at it.

"You haven't drank," he stated.

She laughed lightly. "I do not have need for drink, my son. I am.." she paused. "My, look how you've grown!"

It was hollow enthusiasm. Anon's frown became even deeper. "You are what?" he questioned. "And why did you call me your son?"

"Because you are," she immediately replied.

"Enough!"

Both Anon and the woman turned to look to Noamora curiously.

"I said enough," she repeated. "I want you out of my house. Now."

"Mother, wait." Anon said. "Hear her out. Listen, please, to what she has to say."

The woman stared Anon in the face. "Do you remember the dreams you had when you were four?"

He nodded.

"And do you remember seeing me in them? Do you remember what I was saying?"

He nodded. "You were saying that you were my true mother, and I your true child."

"Did you believe me?"

At this, he glanced guiltily at Noamora before replying, "Yes."

"And why did you believe me?" she pressed.

"I...I don't know."

"You do."

"I just felt it." He offered up, lamely.

She indulged him with a smile. "You do not yet know where you come from, my son. But worry not, it is time I show you."

Noamora dashed to block the door. "You will kill me first then," she huffed.

The woman smiled. "There are some things that we must first clear up, of course. For one, you have done a marvelous child of rearing my son..."

"YOUR SON?!" Noamora screeched.

"Yes. You have raised him, but I carried him for nine months in my womb. I am the mother who left him in the village all those seasons ago, but I have never abandoned him." Noamora snorted. "Believe what you wish," the woman continued, "But I have been protecting him. He is destined for great things. But he will not be a hero. He will be scorned, hated, rebuked, and if possible, murdered. He will be to all eyes the villain, except to the one he saves. But, before that happens, he must learn to control his gift."

"Gift?" Noamora asked, exasperated.

"Yes, the tool he will use. You are already familiar with it. You have seen its effects on people. And you may already have deemed it a curse."

"The only curse we've been experiencing is all the people that suddenly lose their minds and want to claim him as theirs. Like some people we know..." Noamora peered pointedly at the woman.

"That is his gift," the woman went on, ignoring the low jab. " He has the ability to obsess people in him."

"And that is a gift?"  
"If he learned how to control it, yes."

"And who are you again?"

"My name is Euphoria," the woman replied. "I am a nymph from the Paradisian Islands. Every inhabitant there has some ability. And, though he does not live there, he has my blood coursing through his veins."

"So, you have the power to obsess people too?"

"No. I can just give someone tremendous pleasure like they have never felt. But I choose who I do that too."

"So, Anon..."

The woman held up her hand. "And you claim he is your child, your son? I have been here for awhile, listening intently to everything you have said, and not once have you called him son. Not once. You do not even truly believe you are his mother."

Noamora opened her mouth to speak, opened it wider to shout, but nothing came out.

"If Anon wants to control his gifts, I must take him with me back to the Paradisian Islands to reconnect with his roots. You may stay here and wait because I will be bringing him back. As much as I would love to keep him, I have sacrificed him to fate in order to protect him. And fate has placed him in your hands."

There was little said after that. After a brief, but intense discussion with Anon, she decided to let him go. And with a emotional goodbye, Anon took off with his biological mother for his homeland. But he vowed to return to the young woman who raised him from infancy, who now stood staring after them long after he had disappeared from sight.

Noamora. His Mother.

**A/N: I was so enthused by the one review, and the one extra follower, that I decided to write two chapters. For those who are viewing, do not hesitate to review and be responsible for replenishing this author's artistic well. And I will continue to repay you by aspiring to write things that will resonate with the dreams and unspoken things hidden inside you. **


	6. Chapter 5

They had been walking for - judging by how his legs felt - a couple of hours. But, judging by the scenery, it looked like it had only been 10 minutes at most.

His stomach had went from growling to outright barking. Whenever he put his hand to it, he could almost swear that it would try to bite him. Yup, he was about ready to call it quits.

His mother, on the other hand, looked like she was having a ball. And not "enjoying-a-casual-walk-in-fresh-air-after-a-stressful- day" type of ball, but a "I've-been-locked-in-the-house-for-12-years-and-had-finally-escaped" type of ball.

_This place must be something special,_ Anon wondered.

They walked for another 5 or 10 of those minutes that felt like hours, when Anon decided to call it in. Well, if you call his legs buckling themselves underneath him, and rooting him to that one spot, calling it in. In either case, he was done.

His mother was instantly by his side. "What is wrong?" she asked.

"My legs are tired, my stomach is in hunger, and I suspect that you are lost. Am I correct?" He retorted rather sassily, sitting up.

At this, his mother chuckled. "My dear child, we reached the Island hours ago. You are just unconscious."

"I am not. I am talking to you, aren't I?"

She smiled. "You are unconscious of the reality of the Island that you've been detached from for so long. You are only conscious of this reality of this place with that woman, and that is what is preventing you from gaining consciousness."

He shook his head, bewildered. "So, we are already here at the Island? But I cannot see it, because I am unconscious of it? So I have to become conscious by...becoming unconscious?" He groaned. "I am confused!"

"Just open your eyes," she said.

He tried to protest. "But my eyes are-"

"No. _Really_ open your eyes and look."

He frowned and began looking around. "I don't see anything," he muttered.

"You are either looking too hard, or not looking hard enough. You must look just_ right."_

This time he looked around, but without trying to see anything. But also without trying to see nothing. And in the corner of his eye, something flashed past. An animal. But not an animal you would ordinarily see in a forest. It looked like a fish.

He swung his head to face it, and then something else flashed by in the corner of his other eye. It _was _a fish! But where were they coming from? And then he heard...the sound of splashing.

His hand suddenly began to sink into the ground, but when he looked down - instead of seeing his hand sinking into the forest floor- he saw that his hand was surrounding by a pool of clear water. And no longer was he sitting on the forest floor, he was on a beach. And the pool was really the edge of a vast ocean.

Ocean?

The trees that had once been there, had disappeared. Now it was nothing but an expanse of seas with fish flipping out into the air and back down into the water.

The change had been so sudden and natural that he did not even feel like he had been witness to part of the transformation. In fact, it felt like he had been asleep, and had woken up into this world that now seemed like a dream.

He turned toward his mother. She sat beside him, smiling. Her gaze was patient and affectionate.

Her voice cracked as she spoke:

"Welcome home, _Enamore._"


	7. Chapter 6

He looked at her, confused.

"Enamore?" he asked her.

She nodded, continuing to smile. "That is your name. Your _true _name."

_My true name_, he said to himself.

He turned to the ocean, the waves better enabling him to contemplate his thoughts.

He wanted to look at his mother. He felt his mother's eyes on him, but he couldn't.

Instead he asked one of the questions utmost on his mind:

"Why did you abandon me?"

He turned, in the silence that followed, to see the look on his mother's face as she came up with some fabulous tale to excuse why she would abandon her infant son, leaving him prey to any external forces that may have wished him harm.

But, she did not. She did not speak, weep, or turn her eyes, meeting his with equal force.

"You listen to me, and you listen to me _well," _she began, sharply, her tone scolding like that of a...well...of a mom. "I did not _abandon _you. I was _protecting_ you. Enamore, you are my _son_, and I love you. I have never left your side, and no harm would have befallen you because the Fates have said so. And even if they had not, I'd be _damned_, do you hear me, if I would let my only son be hurt."

He looked away in shame.

"_Look at me," _she commanded. Tears were streaming down her face, but her voice never wavered. "Did you think that there was a single day that passed that I did not regret having to leave you to the care of some village people? Did you think that there was a single day that passed that I did not stand by in anguish as you breastfed from that woman, while my breasts were swollen with milk for you? Did you think that there was a single day that passed that I did not feel jealousy as you came home, growing, happy, calling that woman _Mother_?"

And then she broke down, heaving with sobs, as her tears spilled down into the rippling ocean.

He understood then, and even if he did not, he was too moved by her words and her passion to let her go on like this. He crossed over to her, held her tight, and whispered: " I forgive you-"

But, what he said next made her smile:

"- Mother."

He held her like that as she gradually composed herself. Finally, they both stood.

She looked up at him, and smiled. "Would you now like to meet your family? They are all eager to see you."

He smiled back and nodded. "But, how shall we get there?" he asked, looking around, and noticing for the first time that they were on an island completely surrounded by water. No palm trees, and the small island he knew could not hold a family of anybody.

"I think I will let you choose. Do you want to travel by sea, by land, or by air?" she quizzed him, mischievously.

"By air," he asked, curious to see what she would do.

She nodded, went to the ocean, dipped her fingers in, and sprinkled him and herself with some water.

Instantly, he felt his mind go blank, and his body was filled with a sense of something and nothingness. He felt light, carefree, giddy, and he silly-ly began to flap his arms, pretending he was bird, really believing that would make him fly.

But not so silly was, he actually began to fly.


	8. Chapter 7

Hera reclined in her chair, fanned by her two maid-servants, but she was anything but restful.

Not too long ago, she had walked in on Zeus and one of her female servants entangled in a 'compromising' situation. Just the thought made her boil with rage and thoughts of revenge. That particular servant had been one of Hera's closest companions- one whom she had shared her real feelings with in regards to Zeus' infidelities. But she had never thought the silly girl would double cross her like this. But, then again, she would not have been prepared to combat the charm and power of the King of Gods, Hera tried to reason.

But as much as she tried to reason, Hera could not erase the image of her husband and another woman -not even half as powerful or as beautiful as herself- joined together in a way only married couples, or lovers commited to each other, should be. As she thought about this, her fingers sunk deep into the cushions, and she glanced with narrowed, distrustful eyes at her current maid servants. That other untrustworthy servant girl was disposed of, and would never be spoken of again.

"Your drink, m'lady." A servant girl stepped forward, young, panting with the desire to please. As she bent forward and extended her drink out to Hera, Hera caught sight of the ample cleavage, and Hera immediately flared up with anger.

She smacked the drink out of her hand, the girl cried out, "Ah!", and the juice was spilled everywhere.

"Clean it up," Hera snarled. "And I am thirsty still, so fetch me another drink. In a bigger cup this time."

The girl, still shaking from the event, nodded, and began cleaning. The girl was on all fours, and as Hera watched the gentle sway of the girls butt under the thin clothing, she imagined Zeus walking in and admiring this view, so she immediately screeched: "Get up! Get up! Just fetch me my drink!"

The girl, startled, started and ran for the door. Hera stared at her in contempt the whole time. Noticing the silence in the room, she looked at her two maid servants who had stopped fanning.

"Well," Hera motioned irritably. "Keep fanning."

The maid-servants immediately began frantically fanning.


	9. Chapter 8

He awoke, head throbbing, in a tent that smelled of a distinctly familiar, but not so pleasant odour. He groaned, as he forced himself to an upright position to investigate his surroundings. In the corner was a bucket, presumably filled with piss, which would explain the smell. He maneuvered out the tent, careful not to upset the bucket.

The sun hit him and felt nice on his back. He continued forward, eyes closed, letting the sun work its magic on the length of his body, until he came in contact with something. He opened his eyes, and his head being inclined downward, the first thing he saw was a steel-tipped boot. His eyes traveled from the boot up the massive leg, to an even more massive torso, and finally a head.

The head was huge and hairy, but it would have been more intimidating if the man hadn't been smiling so widely. There was a certain charm in his eyes that made you feel like laughing. The man stooped over and pulled Enamore up to his feet and then further up into a bone-crunching hug.

His eyes widened in shock, pain, and surprise as his mother emerged from behind the man He turned to her, with pleading eyes, not knowing the degree to which she could rescue him. Surprising, as soon as his mom said, "Let him go," he felt himself being dropped. He looked up, and then with even greater surprise, his mom leaned over and kissed the man.

"Enamore- meet your father."

The man was so charming, funny and good that Enamore quickly accepted him as his father for those reasons, if not for the subconscious fear that he did not want to see this man angry. Ever. Just thinking of the damage he could cause someone made Enamore cringe.

The father and mother immediately hauled Enamore around the island to meet everyone and make introductions with festive greetings from all. Finally, after a long day, they ended up in the mountains at the mouth of a cave. Inside, there was complete darkness, but that is where Enamore was being dragged to by his parents.

Inside, they waited- Enamore didn't know for what, though. But suddenly, the cave was illuminated with light from a small campire that had ignited from nowhere. Around it, sat three witches. One faced back, the other forward, and one directly at them. They were blind, with no eye sockets, but There was no doubt that they could still see. They were the Fates.

The one facing them spoke. "Enamore, welcome back."

The one facing forward spoke. "It is a pity you must be leaving so soon. Your fate awaits."

The one facing backward spoke. "Yes, a pity. Your past seemed so happy, even though there were times you had to run away from your troubles."

"Even now you want to run." The first Fate spoke.

"But the future has come. You can run no more." The second Fate spoke.

"The past is over." The third Fate spoke.

The first Fate spoke again. "He is impatient, sisters. He wants to know his mission."

The second Fate spoke again. "Very well, warrior. The battle you must fight is one of love. You will have very powerful opponents, and even more beautiful but difficult prize. You see...you must capture Hera's heart."

Enamore waited for the third Fate to speak again. But she remained silent. She represented the past, and her silence signified that his past was over.

"When do I begin?" Enamore asked.

"You must leave tonight. No goodbyes, no farewells, just leave." The first Fate spoke.

"And what of my parents? Cannot I, at least, say bye to them?"

"No." The second Fate spoke. "If you succeed, you will see them again."

"But, can't you tell me if I succeed or not?"

Silence. They were done speaking.

"Well?" he screamed, frustrated, as the campfire begin to die out drowning the cave out in darkness.

He stood there, and would have continued to stand there, if his father hadn't said, "Just go, son. You will do fine."

He nodded, even though he knew they could not see him. And he resisted the urge to say Goodbye, remembering what the Fates had said. And as he left the cave, he could imagine his mother crying and his father leaning to comfort her.

Outside, halfway down the path from the cave, he then began to wonder how he was to even begin. Was he to walk? Fly? Swim? But his answers were revealed in the format of the pure white horse that neither and looked up at him with clear eyes. Folded on its back, were two magnificent wings made for the angels

"Pegasus" he breathed out. Everyone knew the famed horse.

Cautiously, he approached it, and Pegaus snorted as if to say hurry-up. Or at least Enamore thought he did. And he flung himself on Pegasus back.

"Mount Olympus," he breathed in Pegasus' ear.

And they were off


	10. Chapter 9

She felt old.

Every mistress of her husband seemed so young, full of lustful youth or youthful innocence.

She felt ugly.

The flowing locks, flawless skin, perky breasts, jutting butt, wide hips...

She felt helpless.

Time and time and time again, she would wreak havoc on the life of the current mistress, only to have another one - even younger and prettier than the last- take her place.

To many onlookers, she was a monster, making war with women (an army of women, if you will) who did not have a snowballs chance in Hades of protecting themselves. Because she, Hera, as Queen of the Gods had power, everyone assumed. She was powerful.

But she did not feel like it.

She did not enjoy destroying these women's lives. Deep inside of herself, she knew they had little to no chance of resisting her husband.

He was a god. He was persistent, powerful, and very persuading. And what he did not get, he took.

And Hera tried to reason that with herself. But, when some nights, as she lay spread out for hours, waiting and willing for Zeus to come and carry her to a bliss that was beyond Mount Olympus, and it would slowly dawn on her that he was out in bliss with some other women, she felt a rage beyond her controlling. Her anger, humiliation and shame, would force her, almost unconsciously, to pour out her feelings of hatred down upon the lady of favour at the moment.

And afterwards, she would feel a regret her pride would not let her admit.

She grew resigned.

She would welcome him home through expressions weary of tired hugs and weak smiles. She would smell the perfume of other women on his tunic as he walked by her to shower, and she would not ask. He would lay next to her and coil his arm around her, stroke her hair, whisper in her ear, kiss her neck...and she would only be able to think, indifferently, that he had probably went through these same motions with another woman just a few hours before. But she would not speak.

She determined to suffer in silence when it came to him. Then she would make others suffer.

She had admirers a' plenty. But she recoiled to any advances. She did not desire anyone but Zeus, and she would not stoop to a lower level in order to make Zeus jealous. As tempting though it was...But she was the Goddess of Marriage! How could she possibly do such a thing?

But she felt more than she thought, always had. Her emotions, if strong enough, would overcome any logical thinking. And that's exactly what happened when she met Enamore


End file.
